


The tail incident

by Callmepapi



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bandits & Outlaws, Blood, Blood and Injury, Fever, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Merperson Jaskier | Dandelion, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Poison, Potions, Roach Has the Brain Cell (The Witcher), Sad Jaskier | Dandelion, Stabbing, Transformation, forced transformation, ill add the tags as I go lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27400558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callmepapi/pseuds/Callmepapi
Summary: After Jaskier gets forcibly turned into a mermaid, the witcher and the bard have to find a way to change him back. Or at least find a temporary solution to this madness.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 44
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos appreciated XD

Jaskier woke to a throbbing headache and his ankles burning from a too-tight rope wrapped around them. Across from him was Geralt, tied up like himself, only Geralt’s ankles were tied together as well. Jaskier groaned, his head hung loosely from his neck as he tried to remember past events that brought them both here, but nothing stood out. As far as he was aware, they had had a very normal night with food, wine and a bed each at an inn.

Geralt groaned from where he lay on the floor, the opposite side of the room from Jaskier.

“Geralt?” Jaskier whispered. The witcher looked up sharply, the moonlight from the small excuse of a window reflected brilliantly in Geralt’s eyes, like a cats. Jaskier  _ would _ have taken a moment to appreciate it but he was rather  _ tied up _ at the moment.

“Geralt… what happened?” He asked, hoping the Witcher could have a better explanation than him. Geralt took a deep breath, letting his shoulder’s slump slightly when he realised Jaskier was the only threat in the room.

“I woke up at the inn, saw… two men trying to kidnap you. Somehow, they knocked me out and now we’re both here. Obviously you did something to annoy them.” Geralt’s expression was hard and cold, even Jaskier could see that through the little light they had.

“Does it bring you  _ delight _ to blame things on me? Does it make you feel better rather than think of it as your fault? You must have been ecstatic after the mountain, hm?” Geralt let his head drop to his chest, giving up on the gruff front.

“Sorry,” he said, quietly.

“Not great but it’ll do for now, I suppose.” Jaskier attempted to use what little strength he had to break out of the ropes, obviously it didn’t work. He looked across at Geralt, the witcher trying the same technique, though, again, it didn’t work.

“What are these ropes made out of? Steel? How can  _ you _ not even break through them?!” He shouted, giving up on the small whispers from before. Their captors would figure out they were awake eventually, no point in hiding it now, “do you have any weapons?” He asked Geralt. The witcher rolled his hips side to side, feeling for any of his daggers. He kicked his boot against the ground, checking for weapons there too.

“None,” he said. Jaskier sighed and let himself lean against the hard stone wall.

“Fuck,” he said.

After a long time of silently waiting for any sort of action in their boring cell, an echo of opening doors rang out in the hallway. They couldn’t see anything from where they were both tied up - their door was solid wood, rather than the typical jail cell that they were both well acquainted with.

A rattling of keys sounded behind their door and it swung open to reveal a man, about thirty-ish, smiling at the two.

“You’re awake, I see.” His voice was smooth and clean. He looked handsome and well kept and if he weren’t Jaskier's captor then the man would definitely be his type, “julian Alfred pankratz, the contenents’s greatest con-man. And you, Geralt of Rivia, the brave white wolf - a monster that walks among us. How it is nice to see you both in person.”

“You know, if you wanted to insult us you could have just sent a letter?” Jaskier said. His voice was tired, noticeably, but he kept up the brave front as much as he could.

The man walked over to Jaskier, crouching beside him. The bard was helpless, hands bound above his head.

“Yes, I suppose I could. But then I wouldn’t get the pleasure of torturing you,” a hand flew up and gripped jaskier’s neck tight, leaving no room to breathe, “years ago, you came to this town, to Galeria, and you attended the banquet to celebrate my sister’s seventh birthday, no?” Jaskier tried to speak but the hand around his throat was simply too tight. If the man kept this up, Jaskier would surely die. His face turned beet red and his lips a violent shade of purple, “then you got utterly sloshed and sang of men fucking sirens at sea! And I got the blame! Because  _ I  _ was in charge of the entertainment… Do you know the punishments my family can give?” Jaskier's eyes started to droop, black spots filling his vision. Spittle flew past his lips as his body fought to breath around the hand.

“Stop! You’ll kill him,” Geralt shouted across the room, though Jaskier couldn’t hear it - his mind receding into nothingness without the oxygen he needed.

“I suppose you’re right, this wouldn’t work if he’s dead.” He let go and Jaskier gasped, his throat burning. He coughed and coughed and he thought maybe  _ that _ was what would kill him, not the hand that had finally let go, but the coughing now that he could actually breathe again. But he recovered and his body shuddered as he pushed himself against the wall, knees tucked against his chest. He looked up at the man, his dough eyes full of fear, no longer able to look un-afraid.

“What do you want with him?” Geralt asked, and Jaskier silently thanked the witcher for speaking for him, he wasn’t sure if his throat could handle even one word.

“Did you not just hear what I said?” The man asked, an incredulous expression on his face.

Geralt sighed then said, “fine. Who are you… and what will you do with Jaskier?”

The man scoffed, standing up and facing Geralt, “is that what he calls himself? A tiny yellow flower, easily crushed? My name’s Martin, if you must know,” he walked forward, closer to Geralt but not enough that the Witcher had an advantage. Martin crossed his arms over his chest and spoke, “after your bard sang of sirens and men, my baby sister became obsessed. She’s ten now and her eleventh birthday is in a fortnight, I plan on giving her the most exotic pet, made by my very hand,” he grinned maniacally, “you’re bard here will be the subject, I thought it fitting. I’ve hired a mage to help me concoct a potion that will turn his legs,” Martin jumped back and shook jaskier’s legs, the bard letting out a fearful whine as he did so, “into a tail! Ha! It will be the best present there! Delilah will be in awe, she’s always wanted a pet.”

Geralt looked at jasker in shock, the bard’s expression almost mirrored his own s martin continued, “it’s sort of funny isn’t it? The bard sang of sirens and now he’ll become one, well sort of. A siren hybrid, we’ll call it.”

“And you think that your parents will forgive you for ruining your sister’s birthday? You think this is justice?” Geralt asked.

“Yes,” Martin said, simply. He stood up, making his way towards the door, “you’ll get dinner, but I’m unwilling to waste anymore food towards you animals.” The door slammed shut behind him.

Geralt stared at it for a minute, before hearing the small sobs of his bard. He turned to face Jaskier, who looked entirely too small right now; huddled into a ball as much as he could. His shoulders shook with small sobs and he lifted his head to face geralt.

“I’m sorry, Geralt. This is my fault, you shouldn’t even be here,” he sobbed, his voice was rough and hoarse from being nearly choked to death, “I always get us into such a mess…”

“Jaskier… we’ll get out before-”

“Before I become a mutated experiment? A pet to some spoiled child? I doubt that geralt, we’re well and truly fucked, my friend.” Geralt sighed, watching as Jaskier let his head rest against the hard wall and closed his eyes. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Knock, knock!”the door swung open and Martin walked in, a woman walking just behind him, “this is Alina, the mage I told you about.” She didn’t smile, her face didn’t show any emotion at all, she crossed her arms and looked at Martin.

“Which one?” She said. Martin scoffed at her forwardness.

“No humour this one. It’s the bard, over there.” He pointed in Jaskier's direction and Geralt felt himself subconsciously tug at the ropes as Jaskier whimpered and tucked himself as far against the wall as he could.

Alina pulled a large potion bottle from the pocket of her dress, for a moment Geralt wondered how she could fit such a thing; it was probably the same size as his fist. She attempted to grip jaskier’s jaw, but he shook his head and kept his mouth tightly shut.

“He’s not cooperating.” She turned to Martin who was watching with his arms crossed, one finger pressed against his lips, making him look like he was taking note of the whole scene.

“You’re a mage aren’t you? Use your magic?” Alina scoffed and turned back to Jaskier. A red glow emanated from her free hand and she waved it in front of Jaskier's face. Geralt could see the way jaskier’s shoulders slumped and his face fell blank. Alina held the potion to jaskier’s lips and the bard gulped it down, unaware of what it was, or how it tasted; Geralt could smell how vile it was from the opposite end of the room, salty and bitter.

Jaskier spluttered, forced to drink it but his throat couldn’t keep up with the amount of liquid being poured in it. He pulled back abruptly, coughing and spluttering. The mage peered inside the bottle, seemingly content with the amount Jaskier had drunk.

“That should do it,” she said, standing up. Martin turned to face geralt, jaskier’s eyes were closed as his mind dazedly fought through the spell that Alina had cast over him.

“Effects will happen through the week. We’ll unchain you, trusting that you won’t let him die. You need to feed him too, he won’t be able to move his own limbs with how weak he‘ll be, though I suppose you’ll know, witcher.”

Alina spoke up, “the mutagens in the potion and very similar to that of a witcher’s trials, painful and long.” She unchained Geralt, casting a spell over him so that he wouldn’t move to attack, his limbs frozen to the spot, “it’s a very tiring process, changing the human body into another, I see it’s already starting to take effect.” She cast a glance at Jaskier, who had begun quietly moaning. 

His eyes were still shut as his head rolled from side to side, his legs splayed out in front of him. A fresh glean of sweat shined across his forehead, his mouth agape and taking quick breaths, his eyebrows furrowed in pain. “sweet dreams,” Alina said, then her and Martin left.

The spell on Geralt’s body instantly vanished and Geralt rushed to Jaskier’s aid, “Jaskier? Jaskier, can you hear me?” The bard moaned and cracked an eye open.

“Geralt?” He asked, his voice was weak and small and Geralt hated it, though he hated Martin  _ so _ much more, “Geralt, I don’t feel well,” Jaskier sobbed. His hands, still attached to the wall above his head, twitched in their bindings as if they wanted to hold on to something, seek comfort from something. A very Jaskier thing to do, really.

“They’re gone now. It’s just us, alright.” Jaskier nodded his head in a small weak movement and let out a shaky sigh.

“What’s gonna happen to me?” He asked Geralt. The Witcher sighed and sat down next to Jaskier, letting his back lean against the stone wall.

“I think we both know,” the scent of salty tears began to fill the room and Geralt continued on, “but I’ll break us out of here, we’ll find Yennefer. You know she’ll fix it.” Jaskier laughed slightly, a small, wet laugh.

“Yeah, cause she’s too stuck up her own arse to think that she couldn’t. I know, I’d trust her with my life,” Geralt hummed in agreement, “and I trust  _ you _ , Geralt. Which is why I took this, thought it would help.” Jaskier handed Geralt one of the golden hairpins that had previously been in Alina’s hair.

“How did you…” Geralt started, before being cut off by Jaskier.

“I’m a bard Geralt,” he laughed weakly, “I know how to take out a lady’s hairpin. Now… please can you do your witchering and get us the  _ fuck _ out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m starting to get an idea of where this could go lol. There’s no updating schedule btw so it’ll be a sweet surprise for you, enjoy <3 <3


	3. Chapter 3

They waited until the guards had done their rounds for the night, leaving the prisoners to sleep in their cells, fully expecting them to be pliant and obedient.  _ Not _ expecting any of them to have any hidden tricks up their sleeves such as a hair pin or witcher signs.

Geralt picked Jaskier's shackles with the hairpin, the bard near sobbing when his hands were released; the pain in his shoulders were especially awful. Geralt cast igni on the metal door lock, then, once it was soft and pliable, he kicked it open with a growl. Jaskier was slung over his shoulder and they were on their way out.

They passed a few guards but Geralt either stealthily avoided them or managed to axii them into ignoring them, forgetting they even saw the two. Of course, confrontation was bound to happen and all Geralt had was the hairpins to defeat them both, but it was better than nothing.

They rounded a corner, seeing a guard - who instantly recognised them - who began charging at them. Geralt now too gently rolled Jaskier off his shoulders and dumped him on the ground, the bard giving a big  _ ‘oof!’  _ as he did so. Geralt charged at the guard, dodging blows and swiping with the golden pin. The guard managed a slash at Geralt’s arm that drew blood. Suddenly it was as if Geralt had grown two heads; the guard trembled in his boots as Geralt glanced at the cut in his arm, growling and then turned to glare at the guard… before quickly using the pin to slash his throat.

Jaskier felt a small ounce of pity for the guard. He was probably promised hot meals and a place to rest, better than being homeless on the street. And yet, here he was - choking on his own blood after a  _ Witcher  _ cut his throat open.

“Did you have to kill him?” Jaskier asked as Geralt hefted him over his shoulder once more. Geralt grumbled, then replied.

“He was in the way, would you rather I let him kill us?” Geralt made his way through the hallways, the only sound being his footsteps echoing on the stone floor.

“He was barely a man, trembling in his boots,” Jaskier said, solemnly. Geralt rounded a couple more hallways before finding a set of stairs that led up. There was a large wooden door, like the one from their cell - only this one was open.

Geralt pried it further, peeking his head out slightly - ear first - to hear if anyone was there. Jaskier wasn’t sure if there was or not,  _ he _ couldn’t hear anything but then again he’s not a Witcher. Geralt walked out, Jaskier assumed it was fine, but then angered shouts sounding from, what Jaskier could tell was, every corner of wherever the hell they were.

“Are they shouting at us? Geralt?!” Jaskier cried, fearful for his own life that was now in danger thanks to his  _ bloody  _ witcher. It’s not like he could move out of the way. Of course, Geralt once again unceremoniously dumped him on the dirt floor, Jaskier wasn’t sure if that made his chances better or worse for surviving.

He used his arms to maneuver himself into an upright position, seemingly unable to move his legs - but  _ that _ was a panic for later - and strikes himself into a corner, watching as Geralt took on at least twelve guards at once. An impossible feat for any mortal man, but not a Witcher.

Unluckily for Jaskier, he never saw the guard creeping up at him from the side, his eyes locked onto Geralt’s powerful form. He only noticed the guard when he was too close to be stopped, at least by Jaskier.

The bard cried out, the guard lifted his sword and swung down, only to be implied against the wall by a sword in his side. Jaskier looked at Geralt, the witcher turned towards him. But- oh no!

“Geralt behind you!” Jaskier screamed, but the guard shot true and a crossbow impaled itself into the back of Geralt’s shoulder, not enough to bring him down, but Jaskier knew he’d have to fix that up as soon as he was out of here.

He brought his hand to lean on the ground in front of him, but it landed in something wet and hot. He looked down and- wow, that’s a lot of blood, wait… why was his chemise bloody. Why was there a rip in his chemise?!

The guard, as fate would have it, had struck true. The sword, only being thrown off by the witcher enough to stop it from spearing Jaskier, had still managed to cut his skin, blood pouring from his belly.

Jaskier cried out, the pain only now hitting him and- gods, it was excruciating! He whimpered and used his hands to try and staunch the bleeding. Fuck! It hurts! The blood was hot and sticky and disgusting and Jaskier didn’t want to have to deal with the horribleness of it and the pain at the same time. He couldn’t even move his legs? How was he supposed to help Geralt if his guts are on the floor, or his legs can’t even fucking move an inch?!

“Jaskier!” Geralt shouted. His voice told Jaskier that he didn’t know about the bleeding, the scent of blood heavy around the rest of the bodies that had been slaughtered in the room.

“Fuck, Jaskier!” Okay,  _ now _ he’d seen the blood.

Geralt crouched beside him, immediately taking off his black chemise and pressing it against the wound in jaskier’s belly. Jaskier didn’t cry, but it was a near thing as the pain consumed him whole. He whimpered as he let his eyes slip shut and Geralt panicked when he saw that.

“Jaskier, stay awake!” He shouted. Jaskier jerked awake and glared at him.

“I’m not dead!” He shouted. Geralt pressed harder on the wound, Jaskier wasn’t sure if it was an accident or if Geralt truly needed to do that to help staunch the bleeding but it brought tears to his eyes either way.

“Fu-uck! Did you have to p-press it like that,” he gave a wet cough and his eyes widened in horror when blood bubbled over his lips, “fuck! Geralt!”

Geralt stood, bringing Jaskier up with him and carried him bridal-style. The comfort of being nestled against his witcher was the last thing Jaskier felt before his mind went blank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter is rushed a bit and I’m sorry if it is, I just wanted to get it out of my head and I didn’t really want them to be in the prison place for too long lol, I just want them to leave that place.
> 
> I didn’t plan on Jaskier getting stabbed originally, but ya know, I went with it lol. Never too much whump, right?
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated <3<3


	4. Chapter 4

Geralt watches over the bard as he sleeps. The soft snores and whimpers as he dreams about gods know what.

Faint scales have appeared in his forearms and hips. The only reason Geralt’s seen them being that he had to remove jaskier’s shirt as his fever grew, whatever oil the guards used in their swords seemed to hold some sort of poison - affecting Geralt much less than Jaskier. Witcher advantages.

The scales were a shade lighter than jaskier’s skin, only visible when the light shone upon them. They were fresh, new, Geralt had a feeling they would become more noticeable as the potion advanced.

Upon a more selfish examination, Geralt had found that jaskier’s canines had grown sharper. Not by much, but enough for Geralt to notice. If Jaskier were to smile, Geralt thought, the fangs would bite into his lower lip. Kinda cute, but Geralt pushed that thought away.

The cloth on Jaskier’s forehead was replaced with a colder one and Jaskier stirred awake, groggily blinking up at Geralt.

“Ger-” he swallowed, “Geralt, what- what’s-” Geralt placed a large cool hand on Jaskier's chest, just to calm him and let his mind focus on something in particular instead of everything at once.

“It’s alright, Jaskier. You were hurt, you have a fever but you’ll be fine, alright?” Geralt said, Jaskier nodded in return, staring at the witcher with big dough eyes, red rimmed from the fever. Jaskier brought a weak hand to scratch at scales growing on his arm, Geralt batted it away.

“Stop that, you’ll make it worse.” Jaskier whined then huffed a breath full of air.

“Why’m I so itchy?” He asked, slurred.

“It’s… a side effect… of the fever.” Geralt lied. Telling Jaskier that scales were growing on his body probably wouldn’t make him very calm, so Geralt chose the lesser evil, a small lie and the truth would be told when Jaskier was better, able to process the information better.

“Oh,” Jaskier sighed. His eyes closed again and Geralt heard his breaths become even and turn into soft snores.

Whilst Jaskier slept, Geralt fed Roach and brushed her mane. He found her outside the building they were being held in, the loyal horse likely followed them after being kidnapped. She always managed to save the day somehow, were it not for Roach geralt would have died years ago. He made sure to spoil her as soon as he could find a decent village with decent supplies, for now - a good brush would suffice. 

He gently combed out her mane, making sure to untangle the knots that had been created over days of wind swept weather and storms. 

“What am I going to do Roach?” He asked the horse. Roach huffed in response.

“Hmm, wise words, as always.” She nodded her head in the opposite direction, towards the sleeping bard. Geralt glanced at him then back to Roach, “I know, fever’s bad. But… he’ll live. He’ll be alright. We’ll fix him up.” She sighed once more then butted heads with him. Geralt sighed, resting a hand on her nose and smoothing it down.

Their small fire was dimming and Geralt knew he had to relight it soon, it wasn’t a terribly cold night but without a source of heat they would both succumb to the chill. Jaskier was still asleep, his chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. A small sheen of sweat dusted his skin.

The area around Jaskier’s scales were red and irritated, a rash forming around the skin as they grew in. Geralt’s chances of combatting the potion before it began were grounded to a halt.

He could only hope there would be more time before the potion ran its course.

“Gr’lt,” Jaskier moaned. His eyes were closed shut but Geralt could tell by his quick breaths that he was awake.

“Jaskier, what’s the matter?” Geralt was by his friend’s side in a minute.

“What’s goin’ on?” He said, his words still slurred with fever, though he was getting better.

“Fever, Jaskier. You’ve got a fever… you’re getting better, we’re past the worst of it.” Jaskier gave a weak smile, squinting up at the witcher. 

“Oh, hah. That explains the pounding head,” he sighed, “and the nausea, and the horrible stickiness of overworn clothes. Is there a river nearby? Perhaps? Or a tub?”

Geralt breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, after two days of watching over Jaskier, making sure his fever didn’t boil him from the inside. It had finally broken and Jaskier was back to his old self, well, mostly - he still couldn’t move his legs and he still had scales growing on his body.

“No river nearby sadly, you’ll have to bear the clothes a little longer, until we reach the next town.” Jaskier sighed dramatically.

“Ah, so it’ll be,” a moment of silence passed before the bard spoke up again, “...do I look any different, you know, cause of the potion?” Geralt sighed and thought for a minute. Surely it would be best to tell the truth, he didn’t want to overwhelm the bard. The changes weren’t even that noticeable, really. At most he’d pass for an elf, but only if you really stared at him, otherwise he just looked like a normal human.

“Tell you the truth? You look normal. I wouldn’t worry about it, maybe the potion was a dud.” He said, attempting to give jaskier a false sense of hope. He knew it was wrong but he couldn't bear to see his friend worry. 

“I appreciate the attempt of cheering me up, but I think anyone hates when they’re being lied to by the teeth. I can’t move my legs, Geralt. There’s scales growing on my arms and, gods, I think my teeth are sharper. The amount of times I’ve bit my tongue…” he trailed off. Geralt cupped a hand over jaskier’s cheek.

“We’ll find yen.” Jaskier sank into the touch, nodding slowly. A new itchiness at his neck had him wincing but he ignored it for now. Maybe if he just ignored it, it would go away. 

“Hmm,” he sighed, “I know. She’s an amazing witch who could find a cure for death itself. I’m beginning to realise what you saw in her.” Geralt smiled, fondly, at the bard. Geralt and Yennefer had called it quits a year ago, the uncertainty of whether they truly loved one another or if it was all just some magic controlling them, was too much for yen. They both agreed on it. Geralt was glad for that: he’d hate to have left yen on bad terms.

"you need to rest some more, your body needs to heal," he said, "In the morning we'll head to the nearest town and start our search for yennefer. Hopefully we'll find her before…." jaskier scoffed at him, shaking his head. 

"you don't have to trail off dramatically, you know. Hopefully we'll find her before I grow a fucking tail. Now shut up, your brooding's too loud and it's keeping me awake." with that, jaskier stopped talking, letting out a long sigh before trying to succumb to sleep. 

Geralt could only hope that yen was closer than they knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, here you go lol.
> 
> I did a doodle of Jaskier as a full mermaid, basically an idea of what he'd look like if the potion was complete, but I'm unsure if I should post it or not. Let me know in the comments if that's something you want to see lol. 
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated <3<3 <3
> 
> Edit- I realise now that there’s like no aftercare for the stab wound lol, I’ll try to make up for it in the next chapter lol sorry <3


	5. Chapter 5

The village was small, a bustling community of people who all worked hard for their living. This was perfect for Jaskier, his wound would be cared for and he’d be taken in with the promise of sweet music as repayment.

However, Geralt knew one thing that every small community had in common - the ability to believe in false theories. If one authority figure in a village decided to spread a rumour - baby-eating Witchers, men with scales on their arms - the whole village would believe it and turn against anyone who didn’t abide by their rules.

They had to be careful, they were in unstable territory. To Jaskier, sitting behind Geralt atop roach, the village was idyllic, peaceful even, and it would be perfect to take shelter from the outside world. At least for a little while.

But Geralt knew to be wary of the unsavoury tendencies of close knitted villagers.

Geralt stabled Roach outside the inn, surprised that they even had one there. He helped Jaskier down from atop the mare’s back and wrapped his arm around his shoulder, supporting the bard’s weight as he picked up jaskier’s lute from the roach’s side; the instrument luckily having been in tact and still attached to roach when the horse had met them.

The inn was quiet, unsurprisingly, as Geralt made his way to the Innkeeper. 

“Gosh, I feel like the entire village is going to murder me in my sleep,” Jaskier muttered, eyeing the room and awkwardly looking away when he caught eyes with a large, sweaty man smiling at him from the corner of the room.

“How much for a room?” Geralt asked the man. He was short, large and his face was covered with a layer of grime, as was most villager’s here.

“He not walk?” The man asked, eyeing the bard with a curious expression. Jaskier looked wide-eyed for a second before plastering on a cheap smile and replying.

“Ah! Tragic accident you see. Fell off a horse wrong when I was just a boy,” he smiled. The man hummed in return, suspicion laced into his face.

“That’s too bad, makes you a little more vulnerable now, doesn’t it?” Jaskier didn’t know how to reply and ended up laughing with the man, though his eyes made him look desperately uncomfortable.

“There’s a room right down the hallway there, last on the right. You can pay on your way out, once you’ve got him settled, eh?” The man’s voice was slow and eerie, also a little high pitched. As if he was used to the life of drinking and shouting but for now wanted to seem as pleasant as possible.

“Is there a bath?” Geralt asked.

“Tub should be in your room, sir.” Geralt nodded and began his fast paced walk towards the door, “enjoy your stay.” Both men felt the overwhelming surge of panic as they fumbled to open the door, entirely too aware of the prickling sensation of being watched as they entered.

Geralt shut the door, finding it had no lock, and dumped Jaskier on the bed, the bard letting out a sigh of relief where he lay. 

“Bit of an odd experience, but not the worst.” Geralt wandered over to the window, peering out of it and catching the sight of a group of men by one of the houses beside them, huddled together and chatting before staring up at the witcher. The eeriness only intensified as a thick fog began to form around the village, slow, but by night it would be very hard to see.

“Well, at least we have a room, and a tub-”

“There're no women in this village.” Jaskier stared up at the witcher, his expression slightly shocked but also stuck in thought, trying to find a reasonable explanation to Geralt’s remark.

“Well- uh, I-”

“There are no women, and the men here are road worn and wear swords on their belts.” Jaskier was silent for a moment, his lips pursed before he asked.

“What exactly are you trying to say?” He said, slowly.

“I think… I think this village has been taken over by bandits.”

“What?!” Jaskier whispered, “you're joking? The one village we fucking find and it’s been taken over by goddamn bandits! Oh, oh god. I need to calm down… what the hell do we do Geralt?” He asked, one hand pressed against his bandaged stomach as he winced, his outburst likely causing him to pull at the stitches that Geralt had oh-so-caringly done for him. Jaskier pulled his shirt over his head, just checking to see if there was any bleeding on his bandage. There was only a spot of blood.

“We leave,” he said, “without causing too much suspicion. We’ll get out of here as soon as we can.”

“What, right now? Isn’t that a bit suspicious?”

“We’ve just received a message from a sorceress, I’m wanted in court and my travelling companion comes with me.”

“Hmm, not bad. You mention a sorceress and they’ll probably shit themselves, gods know what yen would do if she found out we’d been slaughtered by bandits-”

“-I wouldn’t let that happen-”

“And then she’d have to bury what remains of us. Eugh! Gross. Alright maybe we should-”

“You’re not thinking about leaving are you?” That same slow voice spoke as their door creaked opened. The ‘innkeep’ was standing in the doorway with, from what Jaskier could see, a gang of men behind him, “you only just arrived,” he smirked.

Geralt glared at the man, he stood protectively in front of Jaskier knowing the bard wouldn’t even be able to move if they were attacked, “we don’t want any trouble, we just want to go.”

“You should rest, sir. Your  _ companion _ is hurt, and who would we be to disallow rest to such a rare creature, whatever he may be.” Geralt furrowed his brows. He glanced at Jaskier and sure enough, the bard no longer looked human. His ears were pointed at the tips and his fangs were clearly visible as his mouth agape. His blue eyes almost glowed in the room and shiny scales were creeping up his neck.

“We’ll make a deal,” the man said, “you’re a Witcher. We have a drowner problem. If you go and kill them for us, we’ll promise you no harm will come to your friend and we’ll let you stay for the night, gone by morning. How’s that sound?”

“I’d be an idiot to make a deal with bandits-”

“But I’ve yet to meet a bandit who has gone dirty on a deal. We’ll accept your offer,” Jaskier interrupted Geralt. The witcher glared at him but Jaskier glared back, nodding at him as if to go along with the plan.

“Ah, your most beautiful friend here sees his sense. We’ll leave you alone now, though we expect the drowners to be killed by midnight. Have fun” with that, the man left.

Jaskier let out a sigh of relief and slumped onto the mattress before crooking his neck to stare at Geralt.

“Why’d he call me a creature? Geralt, what do I look like now?” He asked, trepidation clear in his voice. Geralt stared at him, eyes sad, and Jaskier felt a jolt of fear go through him. He sat up, not taking his eyes off of Geralt as he did, “Geralt, tell me what I look like?” He said again, this time more demanding.

“You…” Geralt started, “your ears are pointed. Your fangs have grown and- and your eyes are… they’re glowing. ‘Can also see the scales on your neck.” Jaskier glanced at the wall behind Geralt, his eyes wide and lost in thought. His mouth was open as he was still processing the information.

“Oh,” he said, and Geralt didn’t like the way it was so vacant, “guess the potion definitely wasn’t a dud.” A sad smile played on his face, “‘spose it’s not so bad, I mean, if it gets us discounts like this-”

“We’ll fix it, Jask-” but Jaskier interrupted him.

“You keep saying that Geralt! It’s not going to happen!” He shouted, desperate anger even dent in his voice, “We won’t find yen in time and I’ll turn into some exotic pet for a snobby fucking lord! And there’s nothing we can do about it!” Geralt knew he shouldn’t, but he just couldn’t help but get angry. 

“I’m trying the best I can! It’s hard for me too you know! Do you think I enjoy seeing you turn into a fucking monster!-” a silence stretched out between them, Jaskier stared at him, his mouth pursed like he was trying not to cry.

“...monster?” Jaskier said, eyes glossy and red rimmed, “... is that what you think I am now?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt started, reaching a hand out to comfort the bard but Jaskier pushed it away.

“Go and kill the drowners. Maybe for fun you can imagine it’s me,” he said, and Geralt felt his heart shatter in his chest.

“Jaskier, no-”

“Go, Geralt.” And Geralt knew that there was nothing he could say that would cheer Jaskier up at this point. He head to give the bard some space, that usually helped when he felt upset.

So Geralt left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I tried to figure out how to post a picture in here but it didn’t work lol it’s too hard and my tiny brain couldn’t handle it lmao.
> 
> So here’s the link to my tumblr if you guys want to see what full mermaid Jaskier would look like lol : https://bananapeel5127.tumblr.com/post/634397297349967872/a-doodle-of-what-mermaid-jaskier-would-look-like
> 
> As always, comments and kudos appreciated <3<3<3


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